Mamá Mia

When I track down Esteban Martínez-Negrete, the drummer for Mexican rockin’ reggae/ska outfit Mamá Pulpa, outside of a Vancouver gig, the first thing I notice are the masks. On the sidewalk behind him, 20 or so colorful wrestling masks are laid out as concert-goers grope through the finds like tourists to beach vendors.

“The masks and costumes come from the Luchadores, the wrestlers in Mexico,” Martínez-Negrete says in a crisp English accent. (He’s the only member of the band who speaks English, and picked up the language during an extended family vacation to the UK.) “We are wrestling junkies.”

Mamá Pulpa’s sense of fun doesn’t stop with the masks. Martínez-Negrete says the band’s moniker means “octopus mom” in Spanish and refers to an old American cartoon called Squidly Diddly. The jollity also carries onto to the stage, where during a performance the four members seem to morph into eight as a result of astounding energy and good-natured enthusiasm. It doesn’t even matter that the powerful and anthemic cries of the singer aren’t in English.

“We usually get a very good response,” Martínez-Negrete says with a shrug.

He is being modest. Their shows draw a considerable group of devoted fans in Mexico, but because much of the bands’ thoughts and philosophies are contrary to the country’s politics, their efforts to grow have been met with resistance.

“We’re not a protest band, but if we have an angle it’s left-wing,” he says. “We don’t get in trouble in Mexico anymore like you used to years ago when you resisted, but there are some lyrics that are absolutely anti-establishment. Openly anti-establishment.”

But despite this obvious slice of punk that garnishes their sound and perspective, Martínez-Negrete doesn’t like to be pigeon-holed. He says they are less about picking apart the system and more about pointing towards a better lifestyle for the everyman. One example of is their song, “Señor Pacheco.” Pacheco, which is not an uncommon surname in Mexico, also means “stoner.”

“Punk is more like ‘fuck the government,’” says Martínez-Negrete. “In the case of ‘Señor Pacheco,’ there’s a constructive side to what we’re trying to say. The song talks about how he gets up every day and goes to work like everyone else and has bills to pay . . . he’s an honest person and he’s always in a good mood because of the weed. He’s not a criminal even if the penal code says he is.”

Mamá Pulpa’s new album, Elmundo Es Muy Dificil, is perfect for heralding the arrival of summer. Martínez-Negrete says it’ sas imperfect and happy-go-lucky as a small, sturdy truck with a platform on the back that’s good for bumpy roads.

“I hate everything being edited on CDs and sounding perfect,” he says. “You listen to Led Zeppelin, the Police, even Rush, they’re not perfect. That’s how it should sound.”

Mamá Pulpa

(with Inspector and Los Furios)

part of the Victoria Skafest

8:30pm Friday, July 11

White Eagle Hall, 90 Dock

Tickets $14.50 • victoriaskafest.ca